


Birthday Surprises

by phoenixquest



Series: Ryndoril and Ondolemar [20]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Drinking, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-12 01:41:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5649061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixquest/pseuds/phoenixquest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ondolemar is feeling rather lonely on his birthday, and since Ryndoril's out adventuring, he breaks into the Bosmer's house because he misses him. He gets a surprise when the startled wood elf shows up. A year later, Ryndoril remembers the important day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birthday Surprises

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my GOSH I'm posting something! And it's not even an AU! I've had this roughly written for over a year, but I *finally* got around to polishing it up enough to post it. The first part takes place sometime while they're still living in Markarth. The second part takes place a year later, after the Dragonborn business is all finished with. I really hope you like this one :) Thanks for reading and sticking with me!

Ondolemar glanced cautiously around, hoping no one was watching. He wasn’t particularly good at being sneaky – nothing like a certain Bosmer, anyway. Tonight, though, it was imperative he not be caught.

He’d already found out the house was empty; the Nord housecarl was no doubt off elsewhere, and Ondolemar didn’t particularly care where it was. He knew Ryndoril was away, the elf having left only a few days before, and was sure he wouldn’t be back for a while.

But tonight…Ondolemar couldn’t be alone. Though Ryndoril wasn’t physically present in his house, it was closer to the Bosmer than he’d feel in his own room, and he’d take whatever he could get. Which was why he found himself fiddling with the lock on the door, nervously glancing around every time a loud noise was made, and trying to pick his way into Vlindrel Hall.

“Ha,” he breathed when the lock finally clicked open. He was becoming a regular thief himself, breaking into homes! Or at least, _this_ home. He was sure Ryndoril would hardly mind, however…and a small part of him felt strangely proud of himself, wondering if the Bosmer might be proud of him, too. He carefully locked the door back behind him.

Casting a magelight in the cold, dark house to find his way, Ondolemar quickly found the spiced wine he sought on Ryndoril’s shelves. He settled himself on the pile of furs in front of the fireplace, lighting the fire with a flick of his hand. Stripping down to just his trousers, he sat on the fur, uncorking the wine, and took a long drink.

He sighed. This wasn’t what he needed after all.

It was too _quiet_. The house was never quiet, not with Ryndoril there. All it did was serve to make his loneliness more pronounced. Grimacing, he downed more of the wine. The taste reminded him of Ryndoril’s lips.

_Stupid_ , he realized, settling back on the furs with a sigh. He should’ve known this wouldn’t work. He should’ve said something to the elf before he left, even, but it had sounded so silly in his head.

The day was Ondolemar’s birthday. He, like most mer, did not generally put much thought into individual birthdays; every decade was a milestone, and _those_ were generally celebrated somehow, but the years in between never meant much. This year, however...it was hitting Ondolemar particularly hard that his family was gone, he was stuck as the Commander of the Justiciars in Markarth, never got to leave the city, and tonight of all nights…he was alone.

What _could_ he have said to Ryndoril before the elf left? ‘No, stay, it is almost my birthday!’ How ridiculous! And yet, he found himself wishing desperately that the elf was around. It seemed all the more important a day for how lonely Ondolemar felt.

Despite the fact that being in Vlindrel Hall by himself was not helping, he still couldn’t bring himself to go back to the Keep. Not with those insufferable Nords, not with his insufferable guards. It was just… _too much_. At least here he didn’t have to pretend, he didn’t have to act like he cared about the Nords’ rambling or act like he felt fine around his guards when he _didn’t_ , damn it all, and maybe he was allowed to _not_ feel fine!

As ridiculous as it sounded, and he _knew_ it did, he simply wished that he had a bit of company for his birthday for a change. He hadn’t in years, not since taking the post of Commander. He didn’t need anything special, but…perhaps just to not be so alone.

Lost in his thoughts, he barely noticed how much he was drinking until he tried to take another sip and found the bottle empty. The stuff really did go far too quickly. He wondered at the impoliteness of taking another bottle, but decided it didn’t matter. He would give the elf the gold for the wine he drank, if Ryndoril liked. It was far easier to ask forgiveness than permission, especially considering the Bosmer wasn’t there to ask _for_ permission.

Uncorking the second bottle, Ondolemar closed his eyes and let the warmth of the fireplace keep him company. With his eyes shut, the warmth of the flames and the taste and smell of the spiced wine in the air, he could almost pretend Ryndoril was with him. Almost.

Two further bottles of wine later and Ondolemar was downright drunk. The last time he’d had so much to drink, the Bosmer had been there – they’d barely known one another then, but already Ondolemar had known there was something special about the elf. Then Ryndoril had, somehow, helped him back to his own room…and left him a potion to cure his hangover. He would be wishing for the potion again in the morning, he was sure.

But for now, it was enough to simply _not_ feel so tense and angry about everything. It was enough to be comfortable on the furs, imagining Ryndoril curled up beside him as they sat by the fire. 

“Ondolemar?” a very surprised voice interrupted his musings, and the eyes he didn’t know he’d closed again snapped open, looking around. His vision swam slightly, but he’d recognize the red-haired elf anywhere. He couldn’t help it – he grinned.

“Ryn,” he said, ridiculously pleased. He knew it made no sense for the Bosmer to be back already, and was half-sure this was merely a hallucination, but he didn’t care. He’d take it. “Hello.”

“What in the name of the Divines are you doing?” Ryndoril asked, baffled. He’d walked in to find a fire going, which was strange enough in itself considering he knew his housecarl was in Whiterun, and then found Ondolemar, half-dressed and spread out on the furs, surrounded by empty wine bottles.

“Having a drink,” Ondolemar said, slurring badly. “Want one?”

“Is there any left?” Ryndoril asked skeptically, glancing around. He hadn’t had a large store of the spiced wine anyway. Ondolemar just looked at him in confusion. “Are you all right, love?” Ryndoril followed up, heading over to the elf.

“All right enough to be hallucinating you,” Ondolemar nodded decisively. “Hello,” he said again.

“Hello,” Ryndoril answered, arching an eyebrow. “Stay there a minute, all right?”

“Oh, don’t go already,” Ondolemar said, all but pouting. “You’ve only just appeared.” Ryndoril hesitated, but walked away.

“I’ll only be a moment,” he assured the drunk elf.

He was quite worried. He’d never seen Ondolemar this drunk before, save the one night they’d been drinking together, and he was shocked that the Altmer would have broken into his house. He didn’t _mind_ , of course; the elf was welcome there anytime, as far as Ryndoril was concerned. But it was simply so unlike him that it _had_ to be caused by something drastic. And to have taken his wine, as well – it just wasn’t anything like what the Altmer would normally _do_.

He hurriedly set his things down by the table in the middle of the room before going into his alchemy laboratory, rummaging through his potions. He found the one he wanted, meant to sober up the elf a little, and brought it back out. He wanted to know what was going on, and he wanted to make sure Ondolemar was okay – neither of which was going to happen if the Altmer thought he was hallucinating him.

“Here, take this,” Ryndoril said, switching out the last almost-empty bottle of wine for the small potion bottle.

“What is it?” Ondolemar asked, eyeing it curiously though it seemed he had a bit of trouble focusing on it.

“It’ll clear your head,” Ryndoril explained, settling himself down nearby. “Go on.”

“But…I don’t want you to go,” Ondolemar said, sounding slightly hurt. “If you are a hallucination…I like it. I don’t want to be alone again.” Ryndoril’s heart clenched – something was seriously bothering the Altmer, and it hurt him to see the elf so upset.

“You won’t be,” Ryndoril assured him, patting him on the leg in hopes that it might convince Ondolemar he was real. “I’ll still be here. Promise.” Ondolemar eyed him skeptically.

“All right,” he finally concluded. “I trust you.” Even made in the throes of too much wine, the admission made Ryndoril smile. He watched carefully as the Altmer drank down the potion, his eyes clearing a little a moment later. “Oh,” he said, sounding slightly surprised when Ryndoril was still, in fact, there.

“See? Told you,” Ryndoril said with a small smile. He reached for the Altmer’s hand then. “Love, is something wrong? Did something happen after I left?”

“I – no,” Ondolemar sighed, shaking his head. He still felt a little tipsy, but he could focus now, and he was sure the wood elf was truly there. Somehow. “I just…” He realized he didn’t know what to say. What possible justification could he give for breaking into the Bosmer’s house and stealing his wine while he was gone? “I’m…sorry. I’ll pay you, for the wine.”

“No,” Ryndoril said, squeezing Ondolemar’s fingers. “Don’t worry about that – I don’t care. You’re welcome here anytime, and you’re always welcome to my wine. But I suppose I could get you a key made,” he added with a smirk, noting the Altmer had picked the lock on his door previously. Ondolemar flushed.

“I didn’t…I don’t…” he mumbled. “I don’t know what I was thinking,” he finally finished, shutting his eyes and looking miserable. “I shouldn’t have…I just…”

“Love,” Ryndoril said softly, moving behind the elf and pulling the blond head back onto his shoulder. “Please. Something’s wrong; you would never have done this if everything was fine, whether I minded or not. Talk to me.”

“I am a fool,” Ondolemar sighed softly. “That is all it was. It needn’t worry you further. I…I should go.”

“What? No,” Ryndoril said firmly, holding tightly to the mer when he tried to get up. “That isn’t good enough. You’re not a fool, Ondolemar, and I know it. Tell me what’s happened to make you act like this. You’re worrying me.” Ondolemar snorted.

“You don’t need to be,” he said, shaking his head though he made no further attempt to leave. It was much too pleasant to have the Bosmer with him like this, particularly as Ryndoril’s fingers had just started stroking through his hair. “It isn’t nearly as important as you seem to imagine.”

“It’s bothering you, so it’s very important to me,” Ryndoril argued, kissing the top of the Altmer’s head gently. “Come on.” Ondolemar closed his eyes, enjoying the sweet gesture for just a moment before deciding that yes, he had to explain himself. It was only right.

“It’s…well, it’s my birthday,” Ondolemar muttered, so low Ryndoril barely heard him.

“Really?” Ryndoril asked, pulling back and staring at the elf. “I thought you said you were only halfway through your eighth decade.”

“I am,” Ondolemar groaned, bringing his hands up to cover his face as he felt himself go red. “Which is why it’s ridiculous. I simply…started thinking,” he managed, “about how I have no one, my family is gone, and I’m stuck here in Markarth all the time, and it was just…”

“Lonely,” Ryndoril murmured, pulling Ondolemar’s hands from his face and kissing them each in turn. “I can understand that. I’m sorry I was gone. I wish you’d told me – I would have stayed.”

“But it is senseless,” Ondolemar argued, though he felt a certain warmth from the Bosmer’s attention. “I am being a fool.”

“No, you aren’t,” Ryndoril said, shaking his head. “I can understand it, love.” He was quiet for a moment before going on. “Do you really think you have no one?” he finally asked softly.

“Don’t I?” Ondolemar sighed, leaning back more heavily onto the Bosmer. “My parents are gone, my brother is gone, and they have been for quite some time. I suppose I have my guards, but it isn’t as though we are friends.”

“What about me?” Ryndoril asked, a note of hurt to his voice. “Don’t I matter?”

“Ryn, of course you do,” Ondolemar said, tilting his head back to look up at the elf. “Why do you think I came here, of all places?”

“Then why do you say you have no one?” Ryndoril asked, returning to stroking Ondolemar’s hair. “You know I’m here for you, Ondolemar. You have me.”

“I know,” Ondolemar sighed, squeezing his eyes shut. “I’m sorry. I just…you weren’t here, either.”

“Only because I didn’t know you needed me,” Ryndoril replied. “If you’d just told me.”

“What, told you that I was feeling insecure and needed you to stay in the city so that I could be coddled?” Ondolemar snorted. “Nonsense.”

“You could’ve just asked me to stick around,” Ryndoril said, leaning forward so his head was pressed against Ondolemar’s. “All you ever need to do is ask. I…I’m sorry that you feel so alone.”

“Not always,” Ondolemar admitted. “I just…I don’t even know why it hit me particularly hard this time. I’ve been far more alone in recent years on this day. I simply…wished for you,” he finished softly, his ears going red.

“Well, you got your wish, because I’m here now,” Ryndoril said with a small smile, pressing his lips to Ondolemar’s forehead. “And I think a special occasion calls for a celebration, don’t you?”

“Don’t,” Ondolemar said harshly, sitting up and turning to stare at Ryndoril. “Do not mock me, Ryndoril. I already realize that it was foolish of me to behave in such a way, and I have apolo-“

“Wait, love,” Ryndoril said, reaching for the Altmer’s hand again. “Calm down. I don’t mean to mock you,” he said seriously. “Honestly. I wouldn’t, not over something like this. You know better. I meant it.” Ondolemar stared suspiciously at him, but could see only earnestness in his gaze. “I’m just sorry I wasn’t around when you needed me,” Ryndoril murmured, moving closer to Ondolemar. “I’d like to make it up to you, if I can.” Without waiting for a reply, he pushed himself up on his knees and kissed the Altmer’s surprised lips.

“You owe me nothing, Ryn,” Ondolemar said breathlessly when they pulled apart. “Particularly after I broke into your house and drank all your wine.” Ryndoril laughed. 

“You act like I mind,” he said, shaking his head. “I told you, love. You’re always welcome here. I mean it. Even if it’s only because you miss me.”

“I’ll pay you for the wine,” Ondolemar offered once again.

“No,” Ryndoril said, shaking his head. “Don’t worry about it. You’re welcome to that, too…I’m glad you like it so much,” he added teasingly. “And anyway, had I known, I would’ve gotten my hands on some Colovian brandy.” Ondolemar couldn’t help letting a small but pleased smile across his face at that.

“You still don’t need to make anything up to me,” he said to the Bosmer.

“Then call it birthday sex, I don’t care,” Ryndoril grinned. “However you call it, I’m having you tonight.” Ondolemar snorted with amusement, but he couldn’t exactly protest. Thank Auri-El for Ryndoril’s potion – he was sure he would’ve been too drunk for anything without it.

“Then I suppose I cannot argue,” Ondolemar replied, prompting Ryndoril to pounce on him and push him down onto the furs, kissing him as though he hadn’t seen him in months. The elves spent the evening _properly_ celebrating such a special day.

  


_Part 2 – One year later_

Ondolemar sat at the house, by himself for a change. Usually he went out with Ryndoril these days. This time, though, Ryndoril had gone to take care of some business with the Thieves Guild, and not wanting to be involved, Ondolemar decided to stay behind.

Their house was small, but it perfectly suited the two of them. Ryndoril had his alchemy laboratory, and Ondolemar had his arcane enchanter. Ondolemar sat at his desk, staring out the arched window into the dark, rainy night, lightning illuminating the trees every now and then. 

He’d been looking over a tome Ryndoril had picked up on his last trip to the city, meant to be instructive about enchanting. He hadn’t learned much from it; it was a book for a novice, really, but his fondness for the elf kept him reading to see if he could glean anything from it anyway.

The storm was distracting him, though; it was late at night, and storms always made him think of Ryndoril these days. He knew the elf wasn’t fond of them – was downright fearful of them – and he usually preferred to spend a stormy evening curled up by the fireplace with Ryndoril. He hoped that wherever the Bosmer was then, he was safe and dry, inside somewhere with others to keep him company.

Ondolemar shifted in his chair, realizing he was gazing out the window at the lightning-streaked sky more often than not. He had just decided he may as well give it up and treat himself to a luxurious bath (for that was something Ryndoril had insisted upon in the house – Dwemer baths, as they’d had in Markarth) before turning in when he heard pounding on the door. Startled, he got to his feet at once, wishing he were wearing his robes instead of his house clothes. Nonetheless, he got ready to conjure up a ward as he went to the door. He couldn’t imagine who would be out there this time of night, and in such weather!

Unlocking the door, he opened it cautiously, only to find the drenched Bosmer standing there, trembling on the doorstep.

“Ryn!” he exclaimed, shocked, as the Bosmer flew at him, clinging to Ondolemar and soaking his clothes through. “Auri-El, Ryndoril, what were you _doing_ out there?” He held the Bosmer tightly, not caring that he was getting all wet himself.

“Thank the gods,” Ryndoril almost whimpered, grateful for Ondolemar’s strong arms around him. He’d been terrified, traveling in the storm.

“Come here,” Ondolemar insisted. “Get that wet armor off. What were you thinking? Why weren’t you in town?”

“I had to get back home,” Ryndoril said, following Ondolemar and jumping at the next crack of thunder. “I just…”

“You should have stayed in Riften until morning,” Ondolemar chastised him, helping the shaky elf out of the wet leather armor. “Traveling in this mess is madness, especially with your fear of the storms.”

“I had to be with you,” Ryndoril explained, feeling a good bit safer now that he was home and with Ondolemar.

“Why did you knock?” Ondolemar asked, peeling the last of Ryndoril’s armor from him and wrapping him with a towel. “Where is your key?”

“I couldn’t find it,” Ryndoril said, shaking his head. “And I just wanted inside.” Ondolemar tsked as he handed Ryndoril a pair of clean, dry trousers and a tunic. The elf finished drying off and quickly changed before Ondolemar led him out to their fireplace. Ondolemar wrapped himself around the elf as he helped to warm him while they sat on a feather cushion by the fire.

“Why did you need to get back here so badly?” Ondolemar asked, brushing the mer’s wet hair from his face as he still shook with the sound of thunder. “I would have been just fine waiting for you until morning.”

“I know,” Ryndoril sighed, feeling much happier tucked against the larger elf’s chest. “But it’s your birthday tomorrow and I wanted to be with you all day.”

“My…Ryndoril, are you serious?” Ondolemar demanded. “You returned home in the middle of a thunderstorm because of an insignificant yearly occurrence? Are you _mad_?”

“I didn’t want you to be alone,” Ryndoril said. “And…I have something for you. But it’s in my pack.”

“It can wait, you’re nearly frozen,” Ondolemar insisted. “Are you mocking me, after last year?”

“What? No!” Ryndoril said, turning to look up at the mer, eyes wide with surprise. “Of course I’m not, love. I just...well, I remembered this time,” he murmured, “and I didn’t want you to be by yourself, if I could help it. I love you.”

“You _are_ mad,” Ondolemar said, quite touched that the Bosmer would face the storm just to be with him before his birthday started. He squeezed the elf to him. “I love you, too. Enough that I don’t give a damn if you miss my birthday, when it means you don’t have to go out in a blasted thunderstorm.”

“But it was worth it,” Ryndoril said, nuzzling the elf. “For you.” Ondolemar sighed, shaking his head.

“Whatever am I going to do with you?” he asked the elf, kissing his cheek. “I am sorry that you were out in the storm,” he added, rubbing Ryndoril’s still-chilled arms. “Particularly with it so cold.” The thunder boomed louder, and Ryndoril jumped. “It’s all right,” Ondolemar said softly, soothing the elf. “I’m here now.”

“Thanks,” Ryndoril said, trying to burrow even closer to the Altmer. “I’m sorry I’m still so…”

“Shh,” Ondolemar said, covering the elf’s mouth with a finger and kissing his ear. “You’ve nothing to apologize for, my Ryndoril. You’re all right.” They sat there for a while longer, Ryndoril warming up nicely and Ondolemar happy just to hold him.

Eventually, Ryndoril got to his feet again, telling Ondolemar that it had to be early the next morning by now and so he was allowed to have his birthday present. Ondolemar rolled his eyes – he didn’t need anything of the sort – but didn’t say anything.

“Here,” Ryndoril said proudly as he returned, presenting a lovingly-wrapped box with a ribbon on it. Ondolemar took it, feeling its weightiness, and opened the thing, shaking his head and grumbling all the while. Inside, he found a large bottle of Colovian brandy. He looked sharply up at Ryndoril.

“You did not have to do this,” he said. Ryndoril simply grinned.

“I know,” he nodded. “But I missed last year. So it was the least I could do.” He finished with a yawn, and Ondolemar chuckled.

“Then perhaps we’ll save it for tomorrow evening,” Ondolemar said. “It is quite late, and I think you’ve done enough today. Did you get your Guild business finished?”

“Yes,” Ryndoril nodded, heading toward the bedroom with the Altmer. He had to admit, bed sounded very good just then, even with the storm continuing outside the house. He always felt better about it when Ondolemar was there.

“So I’ve got you to myself for a few more days,” Ondolemar grinned, and Ryndoril laughed.

“That you do,” Ryndoril agreed. “Until you’re sick of me.”

“So you left six months ago?” Ondolemar asked, arching an eyebrow, and Ryndoril poked him.

“After I just ran through a storm to give you your favorite brandy,” he said, shaking his head. “I feel so ill-used.” Ondolemar chuckled.

“Ah, my dear Ryn,” he said, pulling the elf into his arms as they lay down on the bed. “I will never tire of you. You know better.”

“Good,” Ryndoril smiled, snuggling close to the Altmer. “Because I’m far too in love with you to get kicked out now.” Ondolemar smiled as well.

“And I love you as well, so we are well-matched.”


End file.
